


To Try Again

by quilfish_swan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack concept but not a true crackfic it’s actually kinda serious, Extremely niche Uchiha AU, Gen, Inspired by a comic, Itachi is canonically a good actor so you can't fight me on this interpretation, Itachi uses his acting skills in a community theater production instead of the Akatsuki, Itachi’s got some demons yikes, Just let Itachi cry a little bit huh maybe he’d feel better, No Uchiha Massacre, Reincarnation au if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quilfish_swan/pseuds/quilfish_swan
Summary: "Man! When Sasuke told me that you were in a play, I thought for sure he had to be messing with me!"No, Shisui had been told correctly—Uchiha Itachi is in a play. A stage play. A community theater production, to be exact.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Shisui
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	To Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of a weird concept, but I saw [this](https://tccheah.tumblr.com/post/53493743492/httpwwwpixivnetmemberillustphpmode-medium) adorable comic, and then I made [this](https://quilfish-swan.tumblr.com/post/625083191684939776/we-all-know-itachi-was-a-good-actor-bc-of-his) post on tumblr as a joke, but it turns out that I could not rest until I wrote this. Please enjoy this extremely niche AU.

"You're joking."

Shisui's voice doesn't travel far in the clearing where they come every day to spar, but his incredulous tone makes Itachi wince. The younger boy blocks a hit with his forearm and ducks to dodge a kick.

"I'm not," Itachi says, resigned.

"Man! When Sasuke told me that you were in a _play,_ I thought for sure he had to be messing with me!"

(So Sasuke is the offender.) No, Shisui had been told correctly—Uchiha Itachi is in a play. A stage play. A community theater production, to be exact. The thought is still a bit weird to him, even though he’s been attending rehearsals for three months and learning his lines for four.

He'd told his mother that he didn't want anyone to know, but of course, with the show only a week away, he should have known that Sasuke wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret for much longer. He laughs inwardly and reminds himself to put "dishes" on the list of chores his little brother can do for him later as payment.

“It’s true.” 

Itachi isn't quite sure why he hadn't told Shisui before; he knows his friend would never make fun of him beyond innocent teasing. Something about the whole thing just felt so trivial and unimportant and _not_ befitting a shinobi that he hadn't really wanted _anyone_ to know.

"Wow. That's pretty cool, Itachi." 

The statement puts him a little more at ease. He evades the same lightning-fast kick fifteen more times, ingraining the motion into his muscles, before they decide to break for water and call it a day. 

Both sets of red eyes swirl to black, and Shisui wipes his brow. "So how did this happen? What made you want to be in a play?”

Itachi takes a long drink before relating the incident that had ultimately led to his participation. It was his mother’s idea, sparked by something that happened several years ago.

Before Sasuke had been old enough to use real jutsus, Itachi had agreed to play make-believe with him while their mother folded laundry near them. Sasuke had pretended to use the clan’s famed Katon technique, and Itachi, playing along and wanting his baby brother to feel good about his efforts, had pretended to… die. Itachi hadn’t thought it was anything special, just a few screams and a dramatic flop to the ground, but apparently his performance had been a little _too_ convincing (he recognizes that perhaps he had lain motionless on the floor for a few seconds too long) because Sasuke had started to cry. 

Of course, Itachi had apologized profusely and hugged his brother, assuring him that he was fine, but it’d taken their mother’s consoling for Sasuke to agree to keep playing. (“Maybe a little less realistic this time, okay, baby?” his mother had said with a wink, to which Itachi responded sheepishly, “Yes, Mom.”)

“I thought she forgot about it, since it was so long ago,” Itachi explains, “but after I made ANBU Captain last fall she told me that I seemed stressed out, and she thought it would be good if I had a hobby outside of work.” 

Now, he goes to rehearsals twice a week, under the false name _Uchiha Seiichi,_ as long as he’s not on a mission outside of the village. (When he does inevitably miss practices, he can only apologize and promise to work harder on his own time, as he can’t very well explain where he’s been.) 

The fake name had been his idea, and his parents both agreed it would be best not to use his real one. None of them had wanted the trouble of explaining, if word happened to get out, why one of the Uchiha’s deadliest and most promising shinobi, son and heir of the Clan Head, was taking part in such a frivolous civilian activity. Fortunately, though many know _of_ him, most do not actually know what he looks like, leaving him free to exist as a regular citizen under another identity.

“Wow,” Shisui says again, impressed. “Is it fun?”

Itachi shrugs. “I guess.”

Truthfully, Itachi is grateful his mother had suggested it. It turns out that getting out of his own head and pretending to be someone else for a few hours a week _does_ relieve stress, and what’s more, he _has_ had fun. Their director is funny, and the other kids, while admittedly much louder and wilder than Itachi, have been so kind to him. (He thinks he’s certainly laughed more in the past three months than he has in his life, and he always leaves rehearsals a little more relaxed than he came.)

“Whatever, I bet it’s a blast,” Shisui laughs, seeing through his facade. “How’s your dad been about it?”

“Surprisingly supportive,” Itachi says, grinning, as he recalls his father’s initial... _resistance_ to the idea. Eventually he’d come around, saying that if it helps his son perform better as a shinobi in the long run, it’s worth a try.

"You're gonna let me watch, right?" Shisui shoves his shoulder lightly.

"You really don't have to come,” Itachi says, his ears growing hot at the thought of Shisui seeing him act. (Why is the thought of his best friend coming to the show more uncomfortable than a hundred strangers?) 

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it!"

He invites Shisui over for dinner, and upon their arrival home, he is greeted by his brother, his mother, and his friend Izumi who squeals, “Sasuke says you’re in a play!” 

Itachi blinks, then sighs in defeat. 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

He shoots a playful scowl at Sasuke, who giggles and hides behind a chair.

-

Their last rehearsal is on a Wednesday, the night before they open. He’d petitioned Yondaime for the latter half of this week off for “personal reasons,” and luckily, because there had been nothing too pressing that someone else couldn’t take his place, he was allowed the time.

He comes straight from a particularly draining mission (brief—only two days—but intense), and it’s a relief to step into someone else’s problems, someone else’s life. 

It’s easy to do it, too, to imagine that he’s someone else. It isn't difficult for him to speak and feel and act as if he were Izanagi, the ancient god, the character into whose mind he slips twice a week.

When he acts, he takes his own emotions (always there, always there, simmering deep down, never in danger of bubbling over) and… twists them. Reshapes them, stretches them, magnifies them, so that they’re no longer fully his own.

At fourteen, he has more life experience than most kids his age to draw upon. And as steady as he is, as much as he's perfected the art of schooling his expressions, he’s still an Uchiha; while it rarely shows on his face, he is always feeling, always. 

As a ninja and a member of the ANBU, he’s taught to crush, _erase_ anything inside that would complicate difficult decisions, of which the shinobi world is full. Itachi understands the logic of this. He knows the dangers of carrying emotional weight of his profession, of not eradicating the horror and guilt that abounds in his line of work. Still he’s never felt the need or desire to _kill_ those feelings, at least not yet. If a choice is correct, then it should be made, regardless of how he or anyone else feels. Such is the life of a Konoha-nin.

And so, he allows the pain. Perhaps it is a kind of punishment for the things he’s done. Perhaps it is because he’s scared of what it means to _not_ feel it.

When he must kill, he does it, not without remorse, but despite it. The choices are easy; the hurting is not. In the moments when he’s worried he might break, he simply buries the pain away; not forever, but for long enough.

He supposes, this burying, this _setting aside_ is what permits him to act against his own empathy with such unusual clarity. What that really says about the humanity in him that he tries so hard to preserve, he often wonders, but never for too long.

(But Uchiha Seiichi doesn’t hide his emotions. He unearths them, brings them to the forefront, confronts them and heightens them in ways that Uchiha Itachi rarely allows himself to do.)

Sometimes, in rehearsal, and always during the same moment of Izanagi’s most impassioned soliloquy, he will cry. It surprised him the first time it happened, because he hadn’t done it on purpose. He’d gotten so caught up, and it had just—happened, strange and refreshing, like a release. 

When he’d finished the scene, he felt… light. The other cast members had been stunned into silence, while their director had praised him in a whisper, saying he’d never seen such raw passion. Itachi had awkwardly thanked him, and a faraway part of him wondered how many of those tears were for his role, and how many were his own. 

During the final run-through, he doesn’t cry, but he wishes he had. He still feels so heavy.

-

"I forget how long your hair is when you tie it back all the time,” his mother says fondly, touching his dark locks, which, per the costume designer’s instruction, aren’t pulled back in his usual ponytail. “Are you nervous, baby?"

It’s Thursday, opening night, and he almost says _no_ out of habit; he's used to her asking this question before his missions, and he's always been able to honestly answer that no, he’s never nervous. He's confident in his own abilities as a shinobi; hence, no need to worry. But now... why is his heart beating so fast? Why does he suddenly feel sick? _This is going to be easy, and fun._ He’s in no danger. _It’s going to feel so good._ He ignores that he’s had to tell himself that an alarmingly high amount of times today.

He only shrugs, and his mom gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You'll be great. Your father wishes he could be here. He’ll be coming tomorrow night."

She gives him a last thumbs-up for good luck. 

Backstage, his castmates are giddy, and he relaxes a bit. They teach him their “opening night rituals” and shake each other by the shoulders to pump themselves up. It makes him smile.

Mikoto takes her seat between Izumi and Sasuke.

"Mikoto-san," Shisui whispers, two seats over, with his eyes still on the program, "Your son didn’t tell me he was playing the lead."

Mikoto beams at him and mouths, "Can you believe it?”

 _The Tragedy of Izanagi_ is the title. Shisui scans the program and gathers that it is a dramatic retelling of the creation of the Uchiha’s pantheon of gods, centered around the life of Izanagi and his wife Izanami.

A quick skimming of the synopsis combined with what he knows about their clan’s mythology tells him this won’t be a happy play.

The lights dim, and the hum of conversations abate to silence.

Shisui’s hunch had been right—the story follows Izanagi and his wife and children, the youngest of whom, Kagatsuchi the fire god, kills his mother at birth with his flames, and in a grief-stricken rage, Izanagi murders the child, beginning his slow, downward spiral into despair.

Itachi is… brilliant.

It’s almost chilling. His eyes are wild, his voice sounds like someone else. (Shisui rarely hears his friend speak above a slightly-below-average volume, so witnessing him like this is shocking, and amazing, if he’s being honest.)

On stage, Itachi inhales and exhales.

The scene is coming up. The scene where Izanagi mourns his wife and child in guilt and agony, begs for a solution, and resolves to retrieve Izanami from the underworld.

He steps into the light.

The sting of losing his first teammate, combined with the guilt of every shinobi he’s ever killed—that's what he latches onto. He feeds it, grows it, makes it hurt even more, daring himself to bring his darkest fears of his heart right in front of him with these words: 

_My family is dead, and it’s my fault. Shisui is dead, and it’s my fault. Izumi is dead, my parents are dead, and it’s because of me. Sasuke—_ He almost can’t bear to think it, but he does, and it hurts— _is dead. It’s because of me. I have to find a way to bring him back._

He amplifies that false thought, fuels it to its limit until it’s burning bright, white hot, threatening to explode or consume him.

And it’s incredible and terrifying, because each time he performs the monologue he has the nagging thought that _he’s felt this before._ It’s impossible, he tells himself, it’s only because he’s done the scene so many times, he tells himself, but it nags him all the same. 

He screams the words he’s memorized, cries the next and whispers the last, releasing the storm that he’s created in his own mind.

It’s out. It’s out of him now. The final words of the soliloquy are soft and broken as he falls to his knees with a dull _thunk._

He catches his breath. He feels tears on his cheeks. 

_He can breathe again._

From the audience, Shisui is speechless. He turns to see the others’ reactions: Mikoto has a hand over her mouth. Izumi’s cheeks are wet and shiny. Sasuke is leaned forward in his seat with round eyes, and Shisui wonders if the kid has blinked once in the last hour.

As the lights return, signaling intermission, he utters a breathless, “Wow.” 

The second act passes too quickly. Izanagi descends into madness. He fails to bring back his wife. He dies, unceremoniously, and it hurts to watch.

The spotlight on Itachi's crumpled form goes dark, the lights return, and the show is over.

They stand and applaud.

-

“Big brother! You were so scary!” Sasuke jumps and throws his arms around Itachi’s neck. People are filing out of the auditorium around them, chattering excitedly.

“Oh, really? Thank you, Sasuke.” Itachi hugs him tightly before letting him back down to the ground, and he realizes his hands are still buzzing with adrenaline.

“Yeah, remind me not to get on your bad side!” Shisui ruffles his hair. “Kidding. You were incredible! I had no idea you were so good!”

“Very compelling,” Izumi adds shyly, handing him a single rose. “I cried.”

“Oh, my,” Itachi says, taking the flower. “Thank you, Izumi.”

“What’s on your face, big brother?”

“Oh.” He touches his cheek. “It’s stage makeup.”

“Wow!”

His mother smiles. “You were perfect, baby.” She squeezes his shoulder.

"I'm going to tell all my friends, so they can come, too!" Sasuke says, and Itachi suddenly remembers the little yellow-haired son of the Hokage being among his brother's close peers.

"Ah, no, please don't,” he says, now imagining an incredibly awkward conversation with Yondaime that he’d like to avoid at all costs. 

(Unbeknownst to him, Namikaze Minato is already an avid supporter of the performing arts, and they will be having this exchange much sooner than he thinks.)

“I’m feeling a bit tired,” Itachi admits, as the lights around him start to feel too bright. “I’m going to say goodbye to the others, and I will meet you at home?” 

His mom smiles proudly and says, “Of course,” while Sasuke pouts.

“Oh, Sasuke,” Itachi says, kneeling down so their eyes are level. “Don’t worry, I have this weekend off, so I can help you train in the morning. And then, tomorrow night,” he says, poking his forehead, “you can even come to the show again, if you want.”

That seems to lift his brother’s mood considerably. 

He says goodbye to his mother, Izumi, and Shisui. He finds his castmates, who greet him with slaps on the back and choruses of, _“Well done, Seiichi!”_ which brings a smile to his face. They invite him to a cast party, but he politely declines in favor of getting some rest.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips, even as he lays on his pillow late that night, next to a snoring little Sasuke. 

Tonight had been… fun. He sighs contentedly, savoring how easy it is to breathe, and closes his eyes. If his castmates had another party tomorrow, maybe he would go.

**Author's Note:**

> The name Seiichi means “one who is sincere” which has all sorts of fun and ironic implications :)
> 
> Also in case it wasn’t clear, Minato definitely took Kushina on a date to see the Friday night showing of the Uchiha community theater’s latest production. (Just imagine it… Minato running into Fugaku there, like “fancy seeing you here!! I didn't know you were a fan of the arts” and then the show starts and Minato double-checks the list of actors in the program like five times because he swears that the boy on stage looks _exactly_ like Itachi and he keeps trying to make eye contact with Fugaku who is very pointedly staring straight ahead and _will not look over.)_
> 
> Haha thank you for reading!!


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